Over Drive
by LyleRay
Summary: Puberty brings a massive surprise to the 13 year old Hunter-In-Training, Dean Winchester. He presents as an Omega instead of an Alpha and he goes from first class status to chattel in the space of a week. Dean decides to give fate an argument. Omega / Dean, Older Brother /Sam, MPREG
1. Chapter 1 - Home Sweet Home

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 1

**Home Sweet Home**

The Omega stood at the window watching the snow fall outside on the dark winter landscape. He was alone, left behind again, for his own protection his father said. His father and brother were out together, hunting for another monster. They were alive and eager for the chase. Dean rubbed a hole through the frost on the window, looking out at life and wishing he were with them.

He imagined the electricity snapping along his nerves, the scent of a hunt in the air. He loved it all and now it was taken from him. A month ago he had finally presented and instead of the expected Alpha he should be he was an Omega. He clenched his fists and hated his own body. It wasn't fair. Everything had been wrapped up in the Alpha status.

First he had thought it was just some sickness. His abdomen had hurt and then the cramps had started on the second day. Dad had pulled him from school on the advice of the nurse who, Dean now suspected, knew the signs.

He had been locked in his room with only his father and brother allowed through the door. A Doctor came on the third day and confirmed that he was transforming, creating new organs and setting himself up for a new life. The full transformation would take months but the painful, violent assault on his body happened in the first week.

By the fifth day he was in so much pain that Dad was administering painkillers every four hours. The fourth hour, waiting for his father to open the door, was torture, pure and simple. He could feel the tearing between his legs as a new opening burrowed into his body. His bed was bloody and wet. He had a T.V. for entertainment during the long hours of his transformation but when the pain peaked all he could do was stare out the window, watching the smudged, polluted sky.

Many hundreds of years before the world had rebelled against the abuse of nature's systems. A lot of the world's forests and fields had burned because the rain cycles were completely disrupted. Rain no longer came where it was needed and the population starved as food supplies dwindled. There was mass death from starvation, from disease, from the complete disruption of a society based on once dependably productive farms.

In desperation mankind had turned to the oceans but that food source too had fallen prey to the changing Earth. Men had already killed off many of the fish that once ran in massive shoals. Fish stock fled the coastal plains and hid in the ocean's depths in an evolutionary form of self-defense. The fertile sea floor was carcinogenic after years of chemical dumping. Dead kelp stunk in the sunlight along every coast. A number of once dependable fresh water sources turned salt from the back wash of rising sea levels as the ice sheets melted.

The very air itself no longer could support life and ash fell from the sky as massive forest fires raged. Animals fled both north and south and many species disappeared. To complete the disaster there came diseases that targeted the fertile females of child bearing age. It was a matter of physiology that a pregnant female's ability to fight infection dropped when pregnant to prevent the immune system from attacking the stranger growing inside its mother. This small breach in protection killed thousands, millions, with infectious diseases and the governments of the earth panicked. Without population, without children, they ruled nothing except vast denuded plains.

As the skies began to clear modestly and new weather patterns began to form nature took pity on the mammals of the earth and a new type of creature began to appear; males who could bear children. They were stronger than the previously protected females, more capable of protecting themselves. The characteristics did not appear until puberty so they were educated and trained beside their Alpha brothers.

Without the constant drumbeat of conditioning during childhood the Omega males never came to believe that they were weaker than their Alpha brothers. In order to control this new kind of breeder the existing Societies created whole new sets of rules. At puberty these males were immediately removed from schools. They were sequestered and shielded, subjected to rule by their families, completely subordinate to a related Alpha.

However it was the laws designed to increase the population that held the greatest denied of personal liberty for these boys. Boys as young as thirteen were allowed to be given in marriage by their families, most usually in exchange for a 'dowry'. There were laws passed that required these boys to have their first child by the age of fifteen.

If they were hidden away and the 'Population Police" found them they could be removed from their families and placed in breeding colonies where they were kept pregnant continuously until they could no longer conceive. Then they were released; some to their families, if they could be found. A number of them, now in their 40's and dragged down by decades of pregnancies, were kidnapped off the streets outside the breeding colonies. They became whores, care takers, bound slaves to Alphas.

Finally unmonitored vast numbers of them managed to commit suicide. Bodies showed up everywhere.

The State buried their bodies in numbered graves, the last insult. Their lives had been taken from them and now their names were also erased.

This was the life that faced the young Omega. If he ran and was caught he knew the consequences. If he stayed here with his older brother and his father and remained quiet and obedient, his family would find a marriage for him.

He turned at looked at the next insult waiting for him, a burka. Once the mark of mid-east women its use had been usurped. Now it was the mark of an Omega. It erased the identity of the Man beneath it. It made them a cypher, a non-human chattel; made to be used, abused, traded and desired. From the day he put it on forward, only his Alpha would see his face.

To make things even more desperate, on the open market he was worth a bundle. Even with Mother Nature's best effort, Omega men were rare and precious. Dean was young, pretty, fresh and a virgin. John could live off the dowry for a while, ignoring the fact that he had sold his young son into sexual slavery for the money.

Of course, the inspectors from the Population Patrol could lift the burka's hem if they wanted to but that just to make sure the couple was following all the rules. There was supposed to be a pregnant Omega hidden by the billowing folds.

Dean sat down and stared at the garment. If he put it on it would make his father happy. John would think that Dean was finally accepting his place in society and could get on with marrying off his younger son. The Omega wondered if John had already selected someone for him.

He could hope for another Hunter. Maybe the Alpha would let him hunt with him. Dean had never heard of a Hunter in a burka but he supposed it could happen. Maybe a Hunter Alpha would even let him out in plain clothes. Armed he could kill any PC inspectors that came sniffing after him.

He thought about that scenario. Hunters never killed humans. Murdering some PCI guys would ring that bell. His Alpha would be most likely be horrified. Dean stood up and paced this room. There had to be a way out of this. He didn't want to be someone's bitch. He didn't want to be an incubator on two legs. He didn't even like kids.

He looked around the musty cabin his father had stashed him in. Cobwebs hung from the ceilings. Some windows were broken, the glass covered with taped on cardboard. He was freezing his ass off and that was inside the place. John had asked him to clean the place up a bit while he and Sam were out hunting.

Dean swallowed his bile; a flood of acid filled his throat. Be a good Omega. Take care of the house, Cook the food and bow his head. He imagined the marriage negotiations. His father would find the guy, a dowry would be requested. The Alpha would want to see exactly what he was buying and Dean's father would order him to remove the burka.

Dean could hope his face was enough but the Alpha had a right to inspect his purchase for defects. What Alpha would pass up the chance of imposing his dominance over a possibly hostile Omega? Dean would be but naked in no time.

Dean fumed: to Hell with the house, to Hell with the cooking and most of all, to Hell with the burka. Dean opened the barely functioning refrigerator and grabbed a couple of beers. Popping the top off one with his ring Dean headed outside to sit in the swing on the snow covered porch and get drunk.


	2. Chapter 2- Bought and Sold

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 2

**Bought and Sold**

"Ah crap, Sam. Look at this." John Winchester stomped the snow off his boots and stared at his youngest son, passed out on the porch swing, beer bottles scattered all over the floor.

"Dad, let him be." Sam interjected. "I'll take care of him. This past month has been hell on him."

John pushed at Dean's legs with a foot shod in a heavy boot. "Stop it, Dad." Sam grumbled. "Leave him alone."

"Don't tell me what to do with the little bitch. We need to get him in the house and out of sight. He shouldn't be out here in the open stinking like he does."

Dean's older brother, Sam, bent down and hoisted the boy over his shoulder. "Get the door, Dad."

John went in and held the door open for Sam and his burden. The older man looked around the cabin. "Doesn't look like he did a damn thing I told him to do. I don't remember telling him to get drunk either."

Dean moaned, slung over his brother's shoulder and burped.

"I swear, Dean." Sam muttered. "Puke down my back and you'll really regret it.

Dean moaned again and rubbed his nose with a free hand. "Sammy?' he whispered. "Sam, I don't feel good."

"Surprise, surprise, little brother," Sam answered. "You're drunk on off your ass, idiot. You could have frozen to death out on the porch. Why did you think that was a good idea?"

Dean moaned again. "Don't want…omega.. " His stomach started to gurgle and the boy moaned again and burped. Sam changed directions and instead of heading for the back bedroom, headed for the bathroom. A few minutes later there was the sound of heavy retching.

John Winchester stepped back outside and went to his truck. He didn't want Dean, but mostly Sam, to hear the conversation he was about to have. He whipped out his phone and dialed a number in memory.

Hello, Brigham? Yeah, It's Winchester. Any luck? Yeah, he'll be ready in a month the Doctor says. Anyone interested? Really? That many? I'm surprised. Yeah, I can guarantee he'll be a virgin. I've got him out in the woods miles from anywhere with just me and his brother around.

John twisted in his seat, keeping an eye on the cabin door. He really didn't feel like fighting with Sam about this. When the time got close he planned on sending Sam out on a hunt. He had to remember to find a hunt in a neighboring state. John might need the extra time to seal the deal on Dean.

Just then Brigham, the marriage broker John had selected, got John's attention back to the conversation. "How much?" John gulped. "You've got to be kidding. I had no idea. Why is that? OK so he's good looking and he's only sixteen and newly formed. The virgin thing is worth that much? I'm amazed. You can be pretty sure I'll watch him like a hawk." John quieted for a moment and listened to the other man talk. "I really don't want to know about the buyer, just take the highest bid. OK? Call me when you have a definite buyer on the hook to set up the exchange. Good bye."

John hung up and stared at his phone. The amount of money buyers were willing to pay for his son was astounding. He and Sam would be set up for months. John smiled, left the truck and headed back into the cabin. All he had to do was keep Dean's knees locked for the next month. He was pretty sure he could handle that.

The next few weeks were hell for Dean. His father refused to let him out of his sight. John got calls for hunts from his buddies but sent Sam out to meet up with those that were looking for backup. Dean was kept inside and ordered to cook and clean and learn to obey orders "like an omega should," according to his father.

Once he tried to climb out his window after a particularly infuriating argument with John but John heard the slide of the sash and by the time Dean dropped to the ground his father was waiting for him. As Dean turned around his father decked him and he woke up back in the cabin. His boots were gone.

"You are staying right here, boy." John barked. Dean's only entertainment was either watching the old T.V. or watching his father get drunk. The Doctor dropped by each Friday afternoon to check on Dean's 'progress'; the examinations were invasive and embarrassing.

At the end of the third week of lock down Dean heard the Doctor tell John "He's ready."

"Good, I got somebody waiting for him." John replied.

After the Doctor packed up and drove away Dean confronted his father. "What do you mean; you've got someone waiting for me? What have you done?"

John was in his usual half-drunk stupor. "There's a nice alpha coming for you. You're going to be married and off my back. It's taken long enough. I'm done with you."

"How did you find someone? Who is it?" Dean stood with his arms folded and feet spread. It was a very aggressive stance.

John looked up in his son's stormy eyes. "You'll have to get over that attitude. I don't think your Alpha is going to appreciate it. Boy, I sure understand the burka now. Go put it on. I don't need to see your face."

John staggered to his feet and grabbed the teenager's arm, pressing his fingers into the muscle until it hurt. Dean jerked and tried to pull his arm free but his father outweighed him by about a hundred pounds. John had no trouble at all in shoving Dean into his tiny bedroom.

"Don't you even stick you head out of this room without that burka on. I don't want to look at your pissy face again." John slammed the door. "The alpha will be here in the morning."

Dean paced around the room, kicking at the walls. John had sealed the window from the outside after he caught Dean coming through it and the cracks between the boards only allowed dusty streaks of sunlight to penetrate. Finally, in frustration, Dean threw himself on his bed and stared up at the ceiling.

An hour or so later the door was unlocked and John stood in the doorway with a place of food in his hand. "Here's some dinner. After you eat I'm going to let you into the bathroom to take a shower. "

John left the plate and locked the door again.

Dean spent the night locked in his room. John had taken away his clothes. All he had was a pair of boxers, some silly socks with the big toe separated and a pair of stupid rope sandals with the cord that went between his toes.

He really hated those sandals. They were 'house' sandals, designed for Omegas who never went outside. John had also left a brand new burka for him to wear. It was a traditional 'bride' burka; cream with gold stitching and embarrassing little tassels hanging down from a bride's crown. The crown was to tell the world that the Omega under the cloth was a virgin. . Dean threw it on the floor and sat curled up on his bed staring at it.

John unlocked the door and put a plate of food down on the dresser. The man picked up the burka from the floor and threw it in his son's face.

"Listen, Dean." Your Alphas is going to be here sometime in the next hour. You better eat because I don't know where you're going and your next meal might be a while. Get dressed and stop sulking."

"Where's Sam?" Dean stood up and clenched his fists. "He wouldn't let this happen to me. Where is he?"

John leaned on the door frame. "Aren't you cute? You gonna fight your way out in your underwear? Sam's on a hunt in West Virginia. I don't expect him back for maybe a week. Get dressed. Take your pick. You can wear the burka or I'll drag you out of here in your boxers. "

John shook his head. "Listen, kid, it's not all bad. You'll have a permanent home where you'll be safe. By this time next year you'll be dropping your first kid. If you stop fighting and get with the program you should have a good life with children ahead of you."

"I don't want to be an incubator on legs. I don't want to be locked up in a house all day like a prisoner. You know I've trained to be a Hunter all my life. Do you think I won't cause trouble for this guy? You sent Sam away on purpose, didn't you?" by this time Dean's voice had risen to its highest level.

John stepped into the room and snapped Dean's head to the side with an open handed blow, knocking the teenager back on to the bed. "Get dressed, eat and quiet down. It'll all be over soon and you'll be on your way."

Half an hour later Dean heard a car pull up outside the cabin. Shortly thereafter the front door banged and he could hear men's voices, one of which was his father's. He threw the burka over his head and leaned against the door trying to catch some of the words. When the door was suddenly pulled open he stumbled into the main room with John's hand wrapped tightly around his bicep.

There was a man sitting in one of the stuffed chairs in front of the fireplace and another man dressed in black and wearing a black chauffer's cap standing behind the chair. Dean caught a look at the man he assumed was his Alpha. He was an older man with a receding hairline. He was just this side of fat and was sitting there smoking a cigar.

The man's beady dark eyes focused on the boy and peered out of a pale fleshy face. The man outweighed Dean by maybe a couple of hundred pounds and the boy shivered at the image of being crushed under that flesh, helpless and violated.

"Here he is, ready to go," John crowed. "You got the money?"

Dean's head snapped to his father's face. That was it? He was being sold? Any feelling he may have had for his father evaporated like water on a hot stove.

"I want to see what I'm buying first," the man in the chair said to John. "Strip him and bring him over here. You're guaranteeing his virginity? Don't lie. I have a doctor waiting to check when we get to the house."

Dean fought but the chauffeur came over and held him while John stripped off the burka. He didn't even get to keep his boxers. Completely naked he was pushed in front of the man in the chair.

"Little bit on the feisty side, isn't he?" the man said to John.

John grunted as Dean landed an elbow to his gut. "Well Mr. Adler. You know how these teenagers are. I'm sure you'll take care of it once you get him home."

John had one arm pinned and the chauffer had the other. Mr. Adler leaned forward and ran his meaty hands down Dean's sides and over his hips. The man reached around and gripped Dean's butt cheeks hard enough to bruise.

"Aren't you a pretty thing, Dean?" Mr. Adler let go of one cheek and reached into his jacket pocket. "Here, Winchester, payment in full." A thick wad of money changed hands.

"Hold on to him, Henry. Winchester, get the burka back on him." Adler was obviously used to giving orders.

The man seized Dean's chin before John got to cover it. "I'll just keep calling you Dean. You can call me Zachariah."


	3. Chapter 3- A Pretty, Pretty Boy

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 3

**A Pretty, Pretty Boy**

**From Chapter 2**

_John had one arm pinned and the chauffer had the other. Mr. Adler leaned forward and ran his meaty hands down Dean's sides and over his hips. The man reached around and gripped Dean's butt cheeks hard enough to bruise._

"_Aren't you a pretty thing, Dean?" Mr. Adler let go of one cheek and reached into his jacket pocket. "Here, Winchester, payment in full." A thick wad of money changed hands._

"_Hold on to him, Henry. Winchester, get the burka back on him." Adler was obviously used to giving orders._

_The man seized Dean's chin before John got to cover it. "I'll just keep calling you Dean. You can call me Zachariah."_

**Chapter 3**

Dean struggled but three adult men against one 16 year old Omega was hardly a fair fight. Henry, the chauffeur, locked the boy's elbows behind him while John Winchester tugged the burka over his head. In the meantime Zachariah, his new owner, was having a good time molesting him. The man's hands pried at the teenager's thighs, attempting to reach the prize between Dean's legs.

After a few minutes Dean was covered and his elbows had been strapped together behind his back. He could still kick and twist but if really wasn't doing much good.

Zachariah turned to John Winchester while keeping a firm hand on the back of Dean's neck. "Thanks a lot Winchester. He's just as advertised. I've been looking for a boy like this for a while. As soon as the doctor certifies him as virgin you can start spending the money. You better not be lying to me. I'll be back for that cash before you know what hit you."

Dean was dragging out the door, twisting and spitting but completely helpless. He was lead down the steps to the back of a big, black luxury car with tinted windows. The back door was flung open and he was lifted and thrown inside but not until the chauffeur got in a good, hard grope of his own.

Dean felt like a piece of meat. His own father had sold him, wrapped him up and handed him over to the buyer. Two different men had groped him in the past fifteen minutes. He was evidently their idea of sex on legs and that's all he was; not a Hunter, not a teenage boy, just a wet hole to fuck.

The ride to Zachariah's place was the most humiliating hour of Dean's life, at least so far. Zach stripped the burka up and over his head, leaving it bunched around his arms in back where his elbows were bound together. Zach touched, groped and rubbed every part of the boy's body.

Fingers poked, prodded and touched him everywhere. Zach tried to lick his face but Dean turned away. For his trouble he got a series of bites and hickeys all the way down his neck and on to his chest. His nipples were chewed on until they felt raw.

The man's thick strong fingers were raising bruises on the delicate flesh inside Dean's thighs. His newly formed pussy was petted and poked and, horrifyingly was growing damp from the stimulation. By the time the car stopped moving Dean had been reduced to tears.

The burka was hastily pulled back over his abused body and Dean was shoved out of the back seat into the waiting arms of yet another man.

"Welcome back, brother." the man now holding Dean said to Zachariah. "What did you bring home with you? "

The pudgy man slid out of the back seat. Through the burka's face mask Dean could see the wide smile on Zachariah's face. Dean twisted to look at the man now holding him.

Uriel didn't appear to be fat like Zach but that didn't make him any more appealing. The man's dark face was cold, arrogant and sneering. He was feeling Dean up like the kid was a cantaloupe getting checked for ripeness.

"I got a good one this time, Uriel," Zach answered. "Found us a 16 year old newly turned virgin. He's a little feisty but we should be able to handle that. It makes for a lot of fun and it's better than when they just lay there and cry."

"Sixteen?" Uriel pulled Dean into his chest and wrapped brawny arms around the boy's slim body. "Nice. He feels dammed good too; firm."

The front door opened and another man appeared. "Welcome home, Zach," he said in a deep commanding voice. "Fresh meat?"

"The best, Raphael. Let's get him in to the bedroom as we can all take a nice close look." Zach knelt down and slipped the house slippers on Dean's bare feet and then Uriel started pushing him down a long hallway to a staircase.

Dean had gone cold, just about into shock. Evidently there was no question of marriage here. There would be no possibility of any agreement between him and these men. He had been purchased as a sex slave, pure and simple. He cursed his father, hoping the man went to an early grave. If he could get out of here his one goal would be putting John Winchester into that grave.

At the top of the stars was a large bedroom. It had to be large to accommodate the huge bed. Zach pushed Dean to it. "Say hello to your room, Dean. You are going to be spending a lot of time in here. As a matter of fact, you'll be spending most of your days on that bed with your ankles around your ears so the sooner you get used to the idea, the better.

Dean struggled in Uriel's grip and the men all laughed.

"I told you he was a feisty one," Zach said.

They got Dean stripped and as Uriel held him tightly to his chest the elbow restraints and the ragged shreds of the burka came off. Uriel held him flat on the bed and Zach captured his hands and fastened handcuffs around his wrists. The cuffs were locked on a short chain that lead up to the headboard. Dean was naked and chained in the middle of a huge bed. He had to illusions about what was going to happen next.

Surprisingly they didn't gag him and as he flopped around line a fish on hook and swore and yelled they just laughed and moved over to a table and chairs set up in a corner of the room. The brothers settled into a poker game with Dean's swearing and screaming the only music. Clearly Dean heard a single sentence spoken. "Winner gets to pop his cherry."


	4. Chapter 4- Paying for His Father's Sin

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 4

**Paying for His Father's Sin**

**From Chapter 3**

_I told you he was a feisty one," Zach said._

_They got Dean stripped and as Uriel held him tightly to his chest the elbow restraints and the ragged shreds of the burka came off. Uriel held him flat on the bed and Zach captured his hands and fastened handcuffs around his wrists. The cuffs were locked on a short chain that lead up to the headboard. Dean was naked and chained in the middle of a huge bed. He had to illusions about what was going to happen next._

_Surprisingly they didn't gag him and as he flopped around line a fish on hook and swore and yelled they just laughed and moved over to a table and chairs set up in a corner of the room. The brothers settled into a poker game with Dean's swearing and screaming the only music. Clearly Dean heard a single sentence spoken. "Winner gets to pop his cherry."_

**Chapter 4**

The poker game ended all too quickly as far as Dean was concerned. If they had gone on playing all night he wouldn't have cared. It went on long enough for his voice to get weaker and his throat to ache from his growling and swearing.

Any of the three men would have been bad but Zachariah won and Dean was disgusted. The heavy soft looking man came over and stood beside the bed looking down at his naked teenaged victim.

"Now, Dean." Zach murmured, "Be a good boy. Don't fight me. It'll go a lot easier on you if you calm down. Remember the old saying "If rape is inevitable, relax and enjoy it". This rape is indeed inevitable." Zach began to strip. Dean had tried to stop listening when the word 'rape' fell from Zachariah's lips.

Dean turned his head away. Naked Zach was even more revolting. There wasn't a single thing even vaguely attractive about the man. When the bed sank down from Zach's weight Dean tried to kick out . His ankles were immediately grabbed by Zach's brothers, one on each side.

"Good job, guys," Zach said. "I'll return the favor when it's your turn."

"Give me the lube. I hate it dry." The man said and held out his hand. One of his drooling brothers slapped the tube in the man's hands and Dean now felt strong, invading fingers pushing under his ass. The fingers were cold and slippery and slid down his crack like it was a highway pointing directly to the goal. First one thick finger forced it's way in, wobbling back and forth, forcing his sphincter open then started thrusting rapidly in and out of the boy.

He screamed and swore and tried to pull his ass away but strong hands around his ankles held his legs captive, stretched high and up. After a very few inadequate strokes of the man's fingers he heard Zach slapping and slicking his dick. Moments later Zach's large, leaking dick was forcing it's way into the teenager's body.

The boy arched and tried to move away but Zach held on tight to the slim hips, his fingers driving bruises into Dean's soft white flesh The boy dragged at the handcuffs, scrapping the skin from around his wrists and wept and screamed but the pounding did not stop.

The fat man was having a real good time plundering the virgin hole. Zach didn't have a lot of stamina and it was only minutes until the boy felt a hot flush of come flooding his body. Zach lifted up, pulled out and sent his fingers to investigate the leaking, puffy entrance.

"Nice," he murmured and looked up at his fellow rapists. "Who's the lucky one for sloppy seconds?" Zach rolled off the bed and grabbed a leg when Raphael indicated that it was Uriel's turn. The muscular dark man took Zach's place between Dean's legs and his hands roamed the boy's body.

Uriel grabbed Dean's dick which was completely flaccid and trying to crawl back up in the boy's body. "Oh, look." He sneered. "Pretty boy's not interested. Too bad." Uriel slapped the boy's dick and let go.

"Flip him over. I want to take him from behind. And, yeah, thanks for slicking the way, Zack."

The men exchanged legs and flipped the boy on his belly. His face and chest was held down on the mattress and hands jerked his hips high. Uriel didn't even try for any of the niceties. He took dead aim on the boys' ass and worked his way in. As he said, Zack had slicked the way and the man was balls deep in mere seconds. There was no question of stamina here. After what was basically a beating, Dean's legs collapsed. Uriel simply wrapped his arms around the boy's waist and used him like a sex doll.

Dean was trying his best to try and pass out but it wasn't working. After what felt like hours, t the man finally came and Uriel dropped Dean's abused body on the bed. "Ok, Raphael, he's all yours." Uriel laughed. "Have a good time. How do you want him?"

"Flip him on his back and take this leg." The last brother said. "I can't believe neither one of you wanted his nice new cunt. Good of you to leave it for me."

"Take a look, Raph," Uriel said jerking Dean's leg up impossibly higher and sticking his fingers into the boy's crotch. "It's so new it's just a little slit. You can hardly find it but you go ahead and have a good time. Get him pregnant on the first night. We'll just have to deal."

This was the worst, the boy thought. He cried and screamed as lube slick fingers forced their way into his brand new organ, stretching it for the first time. Raphael took his time, forcing his way in and taking advantage of the pretty boy spread out underneath him. A gush of blood when Dean's hymen broke was greeted with cheers by the men.

"I guess that proves Winchester was telling the truth. The boy's a definite virgin." Zack crowed.

Dean was pounded and harsh fingers pinched and rubbed at his skin. Raphael even tried to claim the boy's mouth but Dean kept moving his face away. When Raphael was finally firmly seated inside the boy's vagina he man grabbed the boy's head and held it still.

"If you try to bite, I'll cut your squalling tongue out." Raphael hissed. "Do you understand me, boy?"

With his eyes pressed closed and tears pouring down his cheeks Dean nodded yes and gave in. Raphael's lips and tongue now completed the rape. There was no part of his own body left to the boy. These three men had taken every inch of flesh.

When Raphael, the most inventive of the three, was finally sated, the men went back to their table after flipping a coverlet over Dean's body and leaving him alone to weep. The last thing they did was release the handcuffs so that he could use his hands. His wrists were ringed with bloody circlets.

"After you pull yourself together get in that bathroom and clean yourself up." Uriel ordered him. "One of us might want you again tonight so clean up good. Don't worry about clothes. Put clean sheets on this bed from the cupboard and get right back in. After that you can have whatever food is left on our table."

When he was blessedly alone in the bathroom Dean heard someone knock on the other door, proving how thin these walls were. He assumed that some servant was delivering food and he immediately clamped his lips closed and stopped moaning. If the walls were that thin then his rapists could heard every moan, every whimper. He was determined that they were not going to enjoy his suffering. It was a shitty part of his life but his pain was his own. He refused to share it.

Once in the shower with the hot water beating down on him he washed the blood from his legs. Realizing exactly what that blood meant he fell to his knees and prayed to an uncaring God that he wasn't pregnant. That would be the final blow. If he was pregnant he swore to himself that he would kill these three men before letting anyone of them claim to be the father of his child.

If he let that happen they would own him inside and out. The child, if there was a child, would be his, not the Raphael's. If he had to wait to kill these men he would, even if it took years. One man though he was going to kill just as soon as he could escape this house. Dean swore to that same cold God that he could kill John Winchester before anything else could get in the way, including a pregnant belly.


	5. Chapter 5 - A Blood Kiss

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 5

**A Blood Kiss**

**From Chapter 4**

_When he was blessedly alone in the bathroom Dean heard someone knock on the other door, proving how thin these walls were. He assumed that some servant was delivering food and he immediately clamped his lips closed and stopped moaning. If the walls were that thin then his rapists could heard every moan, every whimper. He was determined that they were not going to enjoy his suffering. It was a shitty part of his life but his pain was his own. He refused to share it._

_Once in the shower with the hot water beating down on him he washed the blood from his legs. Realizing exactly what that blood meant he fell to his knees and prayed to an uncaring God that he wasn't pregnant. That would be the final blow. If he was pregnant he swore to himself that he would kill these three men before letting anyone of them claim to be the father of his child._

_If he let that happen they would own him inside and out. The child, if there was a child, would be his, not Raphael's. If he had to wait to kill these men he would, even if it took years. One man though he was going to kill just as soon as he could escape this house. Dean swore to that same cold God that he could kill John Winchester before anything else could get in the way, including a pregnant belly._

**Chapter 5**

It had been weeks. Dean lay on his back, staring up at the ceiling. For weeks he had been held captive, alone in this room; on call for the pleasure of these three men. They mostly left him alone during the day. He had no idea where they went or even if they did go anywhere during the daylight hours.

After the first week in the bed he had been left unshackled with unsupervised access to the bathroom. He could walk around, look out the barred window, or play with the deck of cards left on the table. Those were the boundaries of his new life. The only other activity was flat on his back, if he was lucky, being pressed into the mattress with a couple hundred pounds of sweating pig on top of him.

Someone was here during the day. Food on a tray was left outside the door in the hallway every morning and afternoon. When they started leaving the food at the door the door had been unlocked and his world expanded to the hallway. There were doors at either end of the narrow passage that were locked all the time but it was a welcome expansion of his world. The burka and the house slippers were his entire wardrobe. With the exception of who would possibly rape him at night the days were all the same. He spent hours sitting naked in a chair staring out the only window. To see more than just the sky he would have to stand and craned his neck to see the ground. The window was at least two stories up and possibly three. He was betting on three. The ground was the back of the house. He never saw anyone walking around in the dirt. They were on the top of a hill and the desert landscape seemed to run to the horizon. Any possible roads, traffic, or other activity had to take place on the other side. Other than the wind, the rare bird and coyotes at dusk there was nothing to see.

He stood and stretched. Walking over to the bathroom he hooked his burka on the way and disappeared inside. In front of the mirror he studied his body. His neck and shoulders were littered with hickeys and bite marks. Every night it seemed one of his captors went after whatever unblemished skin they could find.

His narrow hips were purple with finger shaped bruises. His soft white thighs were similarly marked. He knew those bruises were from knees either pushing him open or holding him down. He could remember each individual pain.

He glanced around the room as he had done a hundred times before, searching for something, anything that could be converted into a weapon. The mirrors were not glass; they didn't break when he punched them. There were no convenient metal decorative strips anywhere that could be pulled off and honed into a knife. These rooms had been carefully constructed for the safety of his rapists.

The more he despaired, the more he was degraded, the more determined he became to not just escape but to kill his captors and then escape. Their blood on his hands would pay for all. He had finally realized that his only possible source of a weapon were the bars on his window.

Evidently former prisoners of these men had not been all that inventive. They didn't even notice when a spoon went missing from one of his meal trays. He had hidden it under a loose floor board for days afterward, sure they would come looking for it but nothing ever happened and Dean used the utensil to scrape away at the concrete that buried the base of the bars. After all these weeks and single minded devotion he had finally got one of the bars loose.

That he would have a weapon relatively soon was the only thing that kept him sane. Night after night someone would come. Zack and Raphael simply liked sex but Uriel liked sex and pain. Dean knew if he were here much longer the dark man would be the one that would finally be the death of him. Raphael was interested in a possible pregnancy. Dean thought that Uriel would never allow any child to come to term. Dean would be dead first.

Once he had pulled the bar loose he spent hours grinding it into a point against the same concrete that had been the bar's base. He had done the grinding as quietly as was possible. Always alert for the sound of anyone approaching he had practiced putting the bar back in place quickly. Unless someone leaned rather awkwardly against the bars the window appeared untouched.

He had watched the sun sink beyond the hills and as night fell there was no moon. He had been waiting for a moonless night. It would be a small advantage but for what he was planning any advantage at all was valuable.

He knew if anyone came tonight it would be Uriel's turn. Raphael had been in the previous night and Zachariah the night before that. He had never looked forward to Uriel's arrival before but he did now. The sharpened metal stake was buried at the base of the headboard, hidden by the pillows. Uriel liked to handcuff him to the headboard before settling down to the man's idea of fun and Dean was going to make sure that when his hands were directed up to the cuffs he would be able to grab his weapon.

He had made a point of being compliant during Uriel's last visits and the man believed that he had broken the boy's spirit. If Dean put his hands over his head voluntarily Uriel would not be surprised or suspicious.

He heard the hallway door open and climbed naked into the bed. He pulled the comforter up to his chin and waited. A last glance out of the window comforted him. Soon he hoped he would be out there with the night predators, leaving behind him a house full of blood. His door clicked open and Uriel appeared.

"All ready for me are you boy?" Uriel smirked and started pulling his clothes off. "I knew you would learn to obey." He tossed each piece over the back of a chair then sat to pull off his shoes and slide his pants off. Naked Uriel was the most attractive of the three brothers but he still made Dean want to puke.

Uriel approached the bed and jerked Dean's blanket off, exposing the boy's long slim body, arms extended over his head. "You are perfect." Uriel smiled then climbed on the bed. Holding his body up on one had the man used the other to sweep down the boy's chest then back up to grab a handful of hair to pull the boy's head back against the pillows. The tension caused Dean to arch upward to relieve the pressure. Uriel's mouth shot down and his teeth fastened on to a nipple. He was biting in earnest and Dean knew there was blood. The man moved his mouth to the side of Dean's neck and a sharp bite caused more blood to flow.

Dean felt the blood drip down his neck in a hot tracery and Uriel's tongue followed the small stream. Finally the man released the arm he was propping his body up with and fell onto the boy. He buried his face in Dean's bleeding neck and used his now free hand to plunge between Dean's legs. Uriel lifted his head from sucking Dean's blood and kissed the boy hard and harsh with Dean's own blood pressed on to his lips.

Now was the moment. Dean lifted his spike and finally holding it up with both hands drove it as hard as he could into Uriel's unprotected naked back. He felt the man shudder and gasp.

"What the hell?" Uriel groaned and tried to roll off Dean's body while hopelessly pawing at his own back. Dean sat up and kicked out at the man. Uriel fell off the side of the bed and landed on his back, driving the spike even deeper into his body. Dean stood over the dying man, blood running down his chest and his neck from Uriel's bites. He rubbed at the blood on his lips left there by Uriel's blood kiss and gloried in the joy of watching the man die.


	6. Chapter 6 - Bless Me Father

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 6

**Bless Me Father**

**From Chapter 5**

_Now was the moment. Dean lifted his spike and finally holding it up with both hands drove it as hard as he could into Uriel's unprotected naked back. He felt the man shudder and gasp._

"_What the hell?" Uriel groaned and tried to roll off Dean's body while hopelessly pawing at his own back. Dean sat up and kicked out at the man. Uriel fell off the side of the bed and landed on his back, driving the spike even deeper into his body. Dean stood over the dying man, blood running down his chest and his neck from Uriel's bites. He rubbed at the blood on his lips left there by Uriel's blood kiss and gloried in the joy of watching the man die._

**Chapter 6**

Uriel breath escalated rapidly until it could be called panting but it seemed no matter how rapid his breathing became the man just could not get enough air. There came a crescendo and blood seeped from the man's mouth, a suddenly flowing stream. Dean put up a hand to his own injuries and played in the trickle still flowing down his neck. Uriel gurgled, blew a couple of bloody bubbles and then stopped breathing. Dean was a little disappointed.

He had enjoyed watching the man suffer and struggle and wished that the pain had gone on just a bit longer. He almost felt cheated by the swiftness of the man's death. It didn't seem that Uriel had suffered enough. Dean consoled himself with the hope that there was a Hell and perhaps child rapists deserved the foulest of the pits with the hottest fires.

The boy wondered for just a moment if by his actions he had condemned himself to the pit. Was his suffering enough for God to forgive him or perhaps Satan would be pleased by the gifts Dean would give him and let Dean be welcomed as a conquering hero? After all he gave the demon Uriel as a permanent toy and planned to send three more on the same path to the everlasting Inferno.

Thinking of Hell reminded him about demons and caused Dean to think of something so awful that he gasped. This was a perfectly good meat suit on the floor. A demon could find it a nice cozy fit and Dean could see himself being pursued by a new, even crueler Uriel. He stepped on to Uriel's chest and jumped, popping his handmade spear completely through the man's body. It punched through at the lower end of the sternum. Dean stood between the dead man's legs, grabbed his weapon and pulled with all his strength.

When the weapon exited Dean almost landed on his ass but he had the bloody spear free. The blood from the body was leaking slowly from the open wound. Without a heart beat the blood pooled rather than fountained. Dean crawled next to the corpse and dabbed his fingers in the puddle. Carefully he drew an anti-possession symbol on the rapidly cooling skin of Uriel's chest. It was temporary and Dean didn't even know if it would work but it was the best he could do.

His own anti-possession tattoo was still whole on his hip. He was glad that it was not in the more common position over his heart. The brothers would have made it a target of their mouths and it would have been scarred and made useless. He rubbed the unblemished mark to assure himself of his safety.

He looked around and realized that he had left bloody handprints and footprints all around the corpse. In a flash of inspiration he decided to go whole hog and dress up the scene a bit. While he still had liquid blood to use he drew symbols around the body and on the doors and walls. When he was done the room looked like every cop's nightmare. Dean could hear it now; Devil worship, satanic rituals; all the ignorant bullshit. Almost everything Dean knew was protective but he was sure the authorities wouldn't stop to find out what the symbols actually meant.

With the last of the still liquid blood he made himself into a nightmare. He smeared his face and his chest and dragged pseudo claw marks down his legs. Standing up with his spear in a one hand he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the bathroom door. He had opened it and drawn a complex and completely useless sigil there. In the dim light he saw a demon straight from hell.

He smiled and patted through Uriel's clothes looking for keys. It was time to go looking for Raphael and Zachariah. It was time for them to join their brother on the long trek into Hell. He hoped they all would enjoy the seventh circle of the pit. If there was a God it would only be fair if there was also a Hell.

For a moment he paused and laid a finger against his lips. John Winchester hadn't raped him. What sin could send Winchester into Hell? Then he smiled, remembering a long, boring afternoon in Bobby's library. The Ninth and bottom circle of Hell was reserved for the sin of treachery. What was a greater act of treachery than selling you own child into slavery? Dean smiled. John Winchester's ticket was well and truly punched.

Uriel's keys unlocked everything. Dean ran through the house unimpeded. After assuring himself there was no one home he went back and using his spear, broke every door lock he could. He popped a lot of hardware right off the doors using the spear as a handy lever. If nothing else he made sure he jammed the lock cylinders. Nothing in this house was ever going to lock again.

In the kitchen he found a knife collection including an incredibly thin and sharp fillet knife. Something so sharp as to be able to separate the skin of a fish from the meat he felt had to come in handy. It was while he was searching the kitchen that he saw headlights approaching the house. He fled up stairs and waited. Below he could hear Raphael and Zachariah talking as they entered the hallway then the rapid footsteps of someone coming up to the second floor.

Like a smoke demon himself Dean pressed into a dark corner and watched Raphael make his way down the hall. The man didn't ever stop to wonder why his bedroom door was open. He just continued inside, shedding his coat and tie as he went. Evidently the brothers had gone somewhere fancy for dinner. Dean smiled. The condemned man ate his last meal.

Raphael was pulling his shirt off when the spear plunged into his back. This time Dean didn't even have time to enjoy the man's death. Good luck or bad, he managed to impale the man's hear t on the first try and Raphael dropped like the proverbial stone. Dean shrugged. Maybe Zachariah would be more fun.

Dean squatted down and pulled the body over to lie flat. He took the fillet knife and so carefully carved the anti-possession symbol into the Raphael's left breast. It looked good. There really wasn't enough blood to work up a good murder scene but Dean did the best with what he had and it was gruesome enough when he finished. He had to carve into the body a bit to get all the blood he wanted and he left the man looking like something had chewed on him.

Once again Dean caught sight of himself in a mirror. He looked horrible enough to maybe scare the fat man into a heart attack. He thought he'd take a run at that and if it didn't work he had his spear and the sweet fillet knife to fall back on.

Dean knew Zachariah's bedroom was in the far south wing of the house. He marveled at how foolish these men were, so secure in their home that they didn't even patrol at night. Dean had found none of the servants when he had gone through the house. The servants did not evidently sleep in. He thought the brothers had at least taken that precaution. Who knows what a disgruntled servant might say to the wrong people about the screams in the night?

He pushed open the last brother's door and saw Zachariah asleep in his bed, looking like a fat and drooling baby. Dean perched on the footboard deciding what he wanted to do to this last one. Finally he hissed and Zachariah's head tossed back and forth, disturbed by the noise. Dean hissed louder, remembering the sound of a snake in the desert. This time Zachariah's eyes fluttered. At the third hiss the man pulled his head up and stared at the creature sitting on the foot of his bed.

The man began to gasp like a fish and Dean hoped he was going to get his wish but Zachariah was just building up to a scream, not a heart attack so Dean leaped and landed on the fat man's belly. Falling forward the boy got the fillet knife up under the man's jowls. There may have been a bit of a slice; a neat non-fatal initial cut that bled like crazy. Zachariah was gasping and seemed to suddenly recognize exactly who this naked demon sitting on his chest was.

"What are you doing boy?' the man gasped out. "Get off of me. Is that a knife? What the hell are you doing?"

Dean leaned forward and for the joy of it licked the man's face. "Killing you." He said and moved the knife some more.

The man reached for Dean's wrists and Dean turned the knife, neatly bisecting the jugular. He watched with interest as Zachariah's eyes grew wide in realization. This was the first of the brothers whose blood shot up in a ruby fountain.

Dean giggled and washed is hands in the spray and watched as the light went out in Zachariah's eyes. He ripped the man's night shirt in half with the knife and proceeded to carve his flesh to match the others.

Now Dean had plenty of blood to dress up the scene and he dragged the bloody comforter on to the floor and danced on it. Now he could leave bloody footprints everywhere. He didn't even try to make the sigils neatly on the walls and doors. He danced and flung the blood around, celebrating his vengeance. The room was decorated with joy and power.

He fled back to his room and carved Uriel's flesh, making a complete set of desecrated bodies. Finally calming he gave thought to his escape. He had all the keys including the ones to the cars but no clothing or money.

He first went looking for something ng to wear and found the servant's locker room. Scraping together what he could he took everything to his bath room, robbing the bodies' clothing of any money along the way. Finally dawn was approaching and he was ready to go.

He had taken the burka and the sandals and doused them in Zachariah's blood then left them there. It was his only attempt at subterfuge. Maybe the police would think that the poor little, fragile Omega had been carried off by the nasty murderer. He only hoped that news of the murders would somehow get to John Winchester's attention. The man would understand what had happened and dean liked the idea of John spending his last days looking over his shoulder for the despised omega son.


	7. Chapter 7 - On the Way Home

Winchesters and other SPN characters belong to Kripke Enterprises and the CW. This story is being written for Entertainment only, not money

**Over Drive**

Chapter 7

**On the Way Home**

**From Chapter 6**

_He first went looking for something to wear and found the servant's locker room. Scraping together what he could he took everything to his bath room, robbing the bodies' clothing of any money along the way. Finally dawn was approaching and he was ready to go._

_He had taken the burka and the sandals and doused them in Zachariah's blood then left them there. It was his only attempt at subterfuge. Maybe the police would think that the poor little, fragile Omega had been carried off by the nasty murderer. He only hoped that news of the murders would somehow get to John Winchester's attention. The man would understand what had happened and Dean liked the idea of John spending his last days looking over his shoulder for the despised omega son._

**Chapter 7**

Dawn was breaking over the hills behind the brother's house as Dean drove away from his personal Hell. He had a general idea of where he was and roughly knew where John Winchester's cabin stood. Remembering the drive with Zachariah he knew how long he was going to be on the rod.

Before leaving the blood soaked mansion he had stood in the shower, cleaning the brothers' blood from every inch of his skin. The water had run red for so long he had become bored. It took three washing before the shampoo bubbles were white. He had to be careful after that. The blood was everywhere and he didn't want to smudge any of the footprints.

He dressed in a loose pair of black pants and an overly large white shirt from one of the lockers. The shoes he found were a little large but with the addition of a leather belt he felt he could pass as someone who just liked comfortable clothes not a kid playing dress up.

He was in a diner an hour later when the first of the News stories appeared on the T.V. playing quietly above the serving hatch. 'Three Bodies found in Riverton Mansion' the captions blared. Ritualized murders, satanic symbols, witch craft, black Sabbath; everything he had hoped for flashed across the screen. Even the request for help locating a possibly kidnapped Omega appeared. The media was going for his story, hook, line and sinker.

He didn't know or even care what the cops thought of the whole thing. A story with this level of sensationalism would certainly reach John Winchester's ears. Dean was pleased. He finished his omelet and got back on the road.

A hundred miles closer to Daddy Dear and Dean decided to stop for lunch. Each news hour was still leading with breathless descriptions of the Riverton Massacre. Dean smiled. His art project had a name. There was no way that John would be able to miss this one. There was a monster loose. John might even come when called like a good dog. It was early days yet but there were all these hints about ritualistic trappings. Dean needed to get to John first or he'd be chasing the man all over the landscape.

Some of the thrill would be gone if John didn't understand the message. He wanted his father nervous and on edge.

He parked his pert ass on a counter seat and ordered a burger. He was just finishing up when someone intruded on his personal space. Someone took a loud obnoxious breath. Dean suddenly remembered his Alpha brother being able to scent an Omega from the other side of a bar. He glanced to his right.

"Well, aren't you the prettiest little thing," a husky bearded man sat down at the counter beside Dean.

"What're you doing out here on your own, Omega?" the man leaned close, inhaled Dean's musky scent and then whispered in his ear. Dean turned his head away and moved his plate over. The counterman looked up at the movement but didn't interfere.

"You selling boy?' the man went on and then looked around obviously. "Where's your pimp? What are you going to cost me? I'll go pretty high for a sweet young thing like you."

Dean shuddered and stood up. Walking to the register he dropped money and left. Once outside he leaned against the wall for a minute to get control again before heading for the car. There was a quick scrabbling noise behind him and he heard the door open and close. He started to sprint for the car but a heavy hand grabbed his arm and spun him around.

"That's not nice, boy." The guy from the diner growled. "I made an offer and you walked out. Rude." He started pulling Dean in the direction of an eighteen wheeler parked nearby. ""Come on, I'll show you my bunk."

Dean twisted and broke the man's hold on his arm. This time he made it all the way to the driver's door of the car before the man caught him again. Dean was spun around and painfully slammed against the car. The man caged him with arms braced on the roof. "Pretty little thing like you out here on all your own." He nuzzled into Deans neck. "You smell all tasty and sweet, boy. You come with me. I'll take care of you right."

The trucker started to slide his hands down Dean's arms. Before he was completely incapacitated Dean managed to pull his knife from his waist band and shove it up under the guy's chin. "I can take care of myself," Dean answered and pricked the man's chin with the shiny silver blade.

"Son of a bitch!" the man yelped and backed up. "You'll pay for that with your ass, Omega bitch."

Dean pulled the car door open behind him. He waved the knife at the man and quickly slipped into the driver's seat. He managed to lock the door before the guy's meaty hand grabbed at the door handle. Starting the engine Dean pulled out fast enough to almost take the guy's hand with him. There was more shouting and cursing but Dean was out and on the road before the man got up off his knees. Now Dean just had to watch the rear view mirror to make sure he was not pursued.

Taking the next exit off the interstate he made a number of sudden turns and hid out behind some trees off a skimpy side road. He was shaking from the adrenaline surging through his body m response to the trucker's rape attempt.

His experience of the realities of an Omega's life in public was extremely limited. His first month as an omega was spent in John Winchester's cabin. The next three months was spent as a sex slave. The idea that he could no longer walk around in public without protection was just now sinking in. Everything had been ripped away. Everything was lost; his pride, his identity as a hunter, his ability to function in a world where he couldn't even have lunch on his own. All he was now was a wet hole to fuck. His only value was defined by a single organ buried between his legs.

The fire in his gut was stoked even higher. Here he was, huddling behind some trees like a fearful little bitch. He should be out there cutting the damn trucker's neck. Through his fury though he held fiercely to the rapidly receding tale end of his common sense; leaving a blood trail behind could get him caught before he got to John Winchester. Yes, he wanted to gut the trucker but that would take his eye off the prize. He needed to focus on John Winchester dead at his feet, such a lovely picture. The trucker wouldn't even know what a lucky son of a bitch he was.

Dean sat patiently in the car until well after sunset, coming down off his adrenaline high. The chill of the night was creeping in and his thin white shirt was inadequate protection. In this gritty, dusty world even the moonlight was obscured. The sullen grey clouds that were the normal sky in the latest edition of paradise lost moved around overhead like dirty sheep in too small a pen.

He turned the engine over and crept out from behind the trees with the lights off. It felt good to move again. It restored his pride to be actively pursuing a goal. Anything was better than hiding like prey. He flicked on the heat and the radio.

Winding his way back to the Interstate he pulled off again to the side to watch the traffic. It was early evening and traffic was fairly active. Maybe everyone was still headed out for dinner or coming back home. He fiddled with the station button and found the News. Yes, the triple murder and presumed kidnapping was still leading here at the top of the hour. He had been right to let the trucker go. Another knife murder would have called the cops down on him.

He licked his lips. A cup of coffee would be perfect but he had learned his lesson; no more unaccompanied trips to diners. He'd have to find a drive through. Pulling back out on the road again he felt like he was back in charge. Keeping an eye out for flashing signs in front and blue cop car lights behind he fell into new dreams of blood. A vision of John Winchester dead with cold fish eyes and a gaping mouth enticed him on like a siren's song.


End file.
